


repeat offenders

by doofusface



Category: Cloak & Dagger (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Superheroes, Vigilantism, just finale divergent tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-29 13:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21140939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doofusface/pseuds/doofusface
Summary: And maybe the universe said,You thought I was done?You actually did?





	repeat offenders

**Author's Note:**

> where's s3

Of  _ course _ it’s because of touch.

That’s what this whole thing started with, right?

Light, and dark, and a handhold in murky water.

It started with pain, and a flash, and something really flippin’ magical.

Like all things between them do.

* * *

Exactly two thoughts pass—_run_, honestly—through Tandy’s mind when it happens:  _ Why am I here? _ and Why _ am  _ I _ here?!? _

It’s brief.

And she didn’t mean to do it.

But, uh, sometimes the universe likes to make a joke, she guesses.

Likes to pretend life isn’t  _ that _ terrible for a hot sec.

Except, if it’s true—and it is, _c’mon_, of course it is, when has it_ ever been wrong_—if it’s true, well, y’see, she’s got a whole string of words ready to express her feelings.

And they’re probably a lot different from what she saw were Ty’s.

Different from telling her a few special words, and them being older, and happy, and—

“ _ Kids _ ,” she says out loud, flabbergasted. Her only consolations are that it’s a whisper and that Ty, her best friend, her grounding beam, her— _ other _ —insert a label here, universe—isn’t at their current hideout.

He’s out.

Getting groceries.

Teleported, right after that stupid touch.

(A betrayal by the universe.)

(It was a  _ high-five _ for Pete’s sake!)

(Is _nothing_ sacred?!)

She just—

Well, she_ just_. She just hopes he didn’t sense it.

He didn’t say anything before bloopin’ out? So that was a good sign, right?

A sign that she was safe?

_ Safe from what, though? _ her traitor brain asks.  _ Safe from love? _

(She really needs to work on being too persistent.

It’s starting to backfire.)

* * *

Tandy is at maximum paranoia for the next, oh, week or so.

There was a trail of information from Brigid—Mayhem, mostly—about a new trafficking ring and a “shipment” passing through Arizona, on the highway they were on that week.

So, obviously, they stayed put.

Found a lovely, dusty, scorpion-haunted lil’ shack behind an abandoned gas station, and took up shop until further notice.

And okay, it was just one scorpion, and alright, there’s a  _ lot _ less of a criminal underworld that they’re able to mess with than originally anticipated, but still.

It’s with Ty.

So it’s home.

And that gives her hope.

…Which, in turn, reminds her of Ty’s  _ new _ hope, which makes her feel awkward, and then Ty feels awkward—because the shack is  _ little _ , remember?—and then they stare at opposite walls until she or he can find some excuse to go hunting around for potentially poisonous wild critters and/or the more time-consuming (read: distracting) activity of disrupting gang business.

It’s a cycle.

She doesn’t know how to break said cycle.

Or, that’s what she tells herself anyway.

Because sometimes you regress.

And your best friend being in love with you is kinda scary.

And you have a history of running away.

And lying about knowing it is basically that.

* * *

Tyrone Johnson believes in love.

It’s what his parents have for him.

What Evita knows.

What Billy was.

But it’s a little complicated with Tandy.

It’s a little complicated because he knows about Liam, and all the love  _ he _ wanted to give. All the love Tandy’d run away from.

And yeah, that was her before. And she knows what love’s supposed to look like now. And she knows what it’s like to stay.

But still.

It nags around in his head.

Round and round and round.

With that other thing.

The thing about her fear. 

_ Fears _ , plural.

The things he can’t bring up because they scare him, too.

The sounds…the burning…the blood.

The cold linoleum and the sound of…

Tandy.

_ Just _ Tandy.

Sobbing.

Broken.

For her best friend.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But hell if that don’t make him less ready to risk something more.

* * *

It’s Brigid’s fault.

Not Mayhem’s.

_ Brigid’s _ .

And it’s not that big a deal that they caught the scumbags and the press wanted to hear about the “shadow and angel” again—it’s been almost two years on the hero track, so really, no surprise at this point—but it _is _a big deal that, behind-the-scenes, in their little shack at the back of an abandoned gas station, Detective Brigid O’Reilly decided that it would be _funny_ to _joke_ about her and Ty’s _winning_ _love story_.

“Swanky place for the Mr. and Mrs.,” Brigid says, like it’s a fact, like it’s what everyone expects. She whistles, and it’s Mayhem’s turn. “Damn, two sleeping bags? What, trouble in paradise already?”

“We’re not together,” Ty says, and it’s not, like, forceful or resentful, which Tandy appreciates, but it’s got that tinge of sadness only she knows, and it’s enough to break her heart.

(And, oh, yes—he glances at her. With his brooding eyes.

Illegal.

Technical foul.)

“Oops,” Mayhem says, and then she swerves to business and all is forgotten.

* * *

(Except, duh, it isn’t.)

* * *

(Tandy thinks the worst part is Ty deserves the absolute best—someone who understands.)

* * *

(Ty thinks the worst part is Tandy deserves someone solid—someone to give her hope.)

* * *

Maybe it’s the A/C.

Maybe it’s because it was too cold on the bus to NoCal, and Tandy didn’t have her jacket because, long story short, it got lit on fire by a runner. Maybe Ty had his, and maybe they were sitting together, because that’s, like, a thing they do, a lot, since forever. 

And maybe the universe said,  _ You thought I was done? _

_ You actually did? _

And maybe, just maybe, in the motion of passing a jacket and Ty putting it on his Not-Girlfriend, they, perhaps, manage to touch hands, and…

And hey, Tandy’s been mulling it over, okay?

She almost died (again, like the last twenty-eight times), but this time she almost died with some  _ knowledge _ .

That dumb scene with them and theirs playing with (sober!) grandparents suddenly wasn’t very dumb, and wasn’t very scary, and wasn’t awkward at all.

And maybe she stays in there long enough for him to notice. On purpose.

(Not that she’d ever tell him, ‘course, ‘cause she’s still Tandy Bowen and that’s how life with her works sometimes, aight?)

But when he asks, “Tandy?”

And she says, “I better be at  _ least  _ a ballet instructor in this theoretical future, Ty.”

It’s all a little better and a little less awkward and a little more hopeful.

And a lot more like a puzzle piece clicking into place.

* * *

(Ty finds the biggest things that changed is what she calls him, and the snatching away of her hopes.)

* * *

(Scratch that;  _ their _ hopes.)

* * *

It’s not until two weeks later that he calls her his girlfriend to the cashier at the cafe that it hits her, really.

And it’s not just because the girl’s being a little flirty about asking about him, that he says it. Because Tandy knows when he sounds proud and when he sounds like he needs a Get Out of Jail Free card, and it’s definitely not the latter.

When they sit down on the far corner booth to stalk the nephew of their next target—arms dealer and trafficker; they’re movin’ on up, baby!—she’s still trying not to smile like a manic criminal.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” she teases, eyes squinting because she’s smiling so high and she’s  _ probably _ blushing, but it’s pretty funny.

“Well, you didn’t tell me about your boy,” Ty says, sipping on a frappe like a proper prep kid. “So we’re even.”

“Did you just not know? ‘Cause I wear his clothes all the time. I thought it was obvious.”

“I hold her hand all the time,” Ty counters, dumb smirk matching hers. “I thought it was obvious.”

“You could do with some more PDA,” Tandy says, matter-of-fact, and Ty manages to choke on a piece of chocolate.

She laughs.

He frowns. “Can you not do that? Please?”

“What?” Tandy asks. “Make you uncomfortable?” She leans over the table, two inches from his face. “Babe, check yourself. This is what you signed up for.”

* * *

(He almost chokes again.)

* * *

(And Evil Man’s Nephew  _ almost _ noticed them, but guess what?

Turns out PDA makes people look away  _ real fast _ .)

* * *

Ty asks her one day, when it’s raining and they’re in Boston and there’s a high chance of Tandy maybe stabbing a priest in the next ten minutes.

So, a relatively chill day for them.

“Before we go,” he says, pulling her back into their strategic vantage point. “I need to ask you something.”

Tandy already has her dagger out, and adrenaline’s already Up There, but: “Yeah, go.”

“You know when you saw my hopes? The first time. Before I poofed to get food. When our high five kicked me back two feet.”

She scrunches up her face. “Yeah?” Her dagger goes bye-bye. “What about it?”

“I saw your fears, too,” he says, and he squeezes a bit on their waffled hands. “And before we go do something potentially dangerous—”

“—Delgado said they can’t excommunicate your parents for something you do—”

“—That’s not what I meant,” Ty says, quirking a brow. “…You really think they’ll excommunicate_ me_ for something that’s_ your_ fault?”

Tandy shrugs. “We’re a matching set.”

“You have the weapon!”

“And you  _ are _ a weapon,” she winks. “But what were you talking about?”

He sighs, pulling her close. “Listen, I can’t make your fears go away. But I can promise you that I’m sticking with you, okay? And you—you won’t get rid of me. Even if you try.” He kisses her forehead, gentle and sweet and everything she knows him to be.

Tandy laughs. “I’ve tried.”

So does Ty. “Yeah, maybe stop doing that.”

“I can try that.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

(Thankfully for them, no priest had to be stabbed.)

* * *

(Less thankfully for the psycho pulling the strings, though, ‘cause at least ten of his hired help spends the rest of the night getting booked.)

* * *

It makes him nervous.

Like, extremely: hands-twitching, breath-hitching, jumpy-as-hell nervous.

And he doesn’t know why, exactly, because it’s not like it’s not the natural progression of things, but he knows what she’s done and what she’s done the most.

And that’s run.

And it’s an irrational fear, sure, but aren’t most things?

“Ty? What’s wrong?” Tandy asks, brows knitted and lips in a slight pout. 

“You sure you don’t want a sip?” Brigid asks, a snatched bottle of tequila between her and Ty. “You look like someone who needs a bottle.”

(It’s so dumb that this is happening right before they raid a trafficking den, but when has timing ever been his strong suit since he got his powers?

Exactly.)

“Uh,” he says, because duh, does he want to say this in front of their If It Calls For It-homicidal ally? Not really.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Tandy says, intertwining their fingers, then:

* * *

“Oh,_ no_,” Ty says, but:

* * *

It’s the brightest thing Tandy’s ever seen.

There’s a door where there always is one, with familiar wisps of smoky black at its edges, but here, they don’t feel scary.

They feel right.

Like a coin, balanced perfectly as it stands on a taut wire.

Ty stands in front of the door this time. Alone, in Billy’s hoodie, with an annoyed enough smile to let her know he’s seeing what she’s seeing.

“Maybe we need to watch how the touching thing works when we’ve got serious stuff to talk about,” Ty says, stepping closer to her.

His shadows follow; more like a happy pet than a menacing minion.

Tandy lets it form around her, like a cloak. She frowns. “Bad serious?”

“Not that kind of bad.”

“There’s only like,  _ one  _ kind of bad.”

“That’s not true,” Ty grins, nodding at her. “You exist.”

“ _ Tyrone _ .”

“I have something to tell you.”

She nods at him. “Go.”

“I love you.”

* * *

(There’s another sharp inhale, like a long time ago, like a bullet through her lungs, but definitely not  _ that _ kind of bad.)

* * *

_ Curse.  _ “Really not bad.”

“That’s it?” Ty deflates. “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

Tandy raises up, touches his cheek. “You know who you are, Tyrone Johnson?”

_ Blink. _

“The first and last person I will ever be in love with.”

* * *

“You’re kidding me,” Mayhem huffs, waving her hand in front of the duo’s faces. She hears the tell-tale sputter of an old truck from two blocks over, the feral in her barely held back from semi-literally tearing her partners apart from each other.

She counts.

One.

_ This is what I get for partnering up with hormonal kids. _

Two.

_ Brigid, how did you even deal with these two without locking them up in the holding cell to work out their issues? _

Thr—

* * *

_ Blink. _

_ Blink-blink. _

* * *

“Welcome back to the real world,” Mayhem says, annoyed.

“Bottle’s empty,” Ty says, glancing at the alcohol but smiling like a dope.

“No more distractions, promise,” Tandy grins, about three times more dopey but five times better at hiding it.

“Good,” Mayhem says, rolling her eyes. Her fingers twitch. “‘Cause the party’s comin’ in hot.”

* * *

It starts with touch.

Light and dark, and a handhold as they destroy _yet another_ underground operation in a major city.

It starts with heartache, and feelings, and something worth risking everything for.

Like all things between them do.

**Author's Note:**

> <3 love yall, God bless you fam :)


End file.
